I stared into the cop’s eyes and read the rapt concentration etched across his face that was keeping pistol and pistons moving together. I blinked and saw for a fraction of a second Rachel staring out of the void. And then the policeman’s face folded in on itself, distorting surprise into disgust. His nose, cheek, eye vanished into an eruption of thick, meaty gore as the round ricocheted inside his skull, trapped by his helmet. I hugged the Yamaha hard and snatched the clutch. The BMW rider’s arm swung down. The tip of his suppressed pistol arced across me, but there was no second shot. I pressed on, looking over my left shoulder just long enough to see the policeman I’d punched out spin sideways from a single shot to the side of the head.

I rode the stolen police bike as hard as the cylinders would let me, plunging along Rue du Banquier, lying flat against the body of the bike, estimating the turn from the space in the buildings and trees above me. I flew past the first right and then down the second; it was flanked by high-rise apartment blocks, and I realized the chopper had banked away, out of sight, looking for a new angle on me. If there was a sniper on board, he was out of luck. I raised my head and checked the mirror. The cop-killing BMW rider was still on me, matching me move for move.

But I was close now, seconds from my destination. I kicked up into third and ran the intersection at Boulevard de l’Hôpital, swerving a baby buggy. The trees of Rue Pinel loomed up on either side. I asked the stolen Yamaha for everything it’d give me. As the bike growled, I sat up straight, put my hands down on to the saddle and leapfrogged backwards. The heavy police machine sped away from me between my legs. I found the road feet first – then with my left shoulder, back and right shoulder. I spun head over heels, twisted face down, braced with my forearms – and stopped. I pushed up. Hands bleeding. The elbows of my jacket ragged, knees of my jeans scuffed. Nothing broken. I stood, staggered, righted myself, and brought the M4 up as the BMW behind me hit the crossroads.

Inhale. Exhale. Settle. Fire.